


Fight me, Date me

by himboplantdad



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Tony Stark Has A Heart, i just needed to do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himboplantdad/pseuds/himboplantdad
Summary: This is literally just a happy, fluffy one shot I made so I can get back into fanfic writing. Tony and Steve fight. And then, somehow, things turn a little sweeter.It's simple and not meant to really go anywhere, but if it does well then I might add more just because? Either way, thoughts are appreciated. Thanks!
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 34
Kudos: 133





	Fight me, Date me

“Would you just shut _up?_ ”

It was rude. He shouldn’t have said it. But as soon as the words left Tony’s mouth, what other choice did he have than to double down? 

Across from him, Steve looked like he’d just been slapped. That angry tick in his jaw, the way his cheeks flushed red, even the way he visibly had to check himself before speaking up: It was all a surprising amount of self-control from the man who’d just called Tony a, uh.

What was it? 

‘A reckless idiot who thought more with his dick than he did with his head.’

A low fucking blow, coming from the one guy Tony had managed to somehow repulse, instead of attract. One might think that after three months of sleeping one floor apart, of sharing sweaty gym mats and coffee filters, he and Rogers might get along a little better. _If only._ No, if anything, shit was hitting the fan at a more rapid pace than during the days after the Chitauri invasion.

Maybe they’d just had less to argue about, back then.

At first, it was just— small things. Tony being twenty minutes late for debriefings and training. Steve accidentally crushing the television remote. Dishes. The best way to knock out a Chitauri in one hit. But now? It was anything. Missions, training, press conferences. Enough to where, a few days ago, Fury had taken Rogers by the ear for a _talk._ Since then, it’d been like this.

The usual start of an argument, a particularly quick snap from Tony, and then Steve abruptly forcing himself to shut down.

Clint, of course, had found the entire thing amusing, laughing until Tony quieted the room with his biting question. The rest of the team wasn’t that brave, instead choosing to take the safe route and stay silent, their gazes darting back and forth between the Captain and Stark like a tennis match. One that — in the moment — seemed like a damn close round.

“You wanna try that again?” Steve hissed, his Brooklyn rough even thicker than normal. Anger tended to do that, Tony’d noticed.

“No, I don’t,” the genius snapped back, leaning forward in his chair with a wave of his hand. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying. I’m trying to tell you, this next mission? It’s not gonna work if you try and play it sneaky. This is AIM. They’re good at what they do, and you’ve got to catch them off guard. Bursting down their front door is gonna do exactly that.”

Steve scowled, an incredulous expression flashing across his sharp features.

“And how is busting in, guns blazing, gonna do that better than _actually_ taking them by surprise? They’ve got us outnumbered. I’m not risking that. Stark.”

“They’re expecting us to play this like a bunch of spies.”

“The majority of us _are_ a bunch of spies.”

“Yeah, and how many secretly-evil corporations have you all taken down on an hour time limit? Stick with playing Russian double agent, and let me figure this out. I know what I’m doing.”

“ _Stark._ ”

There he was, doing it _again._ Tony scoffed, arms crossing while he took in the sight of a Steve damn near red in the face enough to match the shield laying haphazardly against the wall. Jesus Christ. What the hell was his problem? Sure, he was being a bit of an asshole, but that wasn’t anything new. Not to mention, he was right. So go hard, or go home, right? 

“The world might have changed a lot while you were busy being a Capsicle, big guy, but I can guarantee it’s not changed enough to where you know more than a Stark. Master tactician or not, you’re in new territory. I’m not.”

“Uh, Tony—”

Clint’s words were low and chalk-full of warning, worry plastering across the rest of the team’s faces. He didn’t get any farther than that, though, not once Steve interjected. Rumbling and brooking no room for complaint, a single, thick finger pointed toward the door.

“Everybody out.”

Well, now he’d really done it. A nervous laugh slipped out at the words, though it might be ‘cause it the only other option was to scramble out the door alongside the rest of the team. Tony watched them file out, one by one: Bruce, quickly. Then Thor, radiating mild confusion at the entire event. Natasha, who snuck an imperceptible look at Rogers. Last was Clint, with an expression that screamed, _‘oh shit.’_

And then they were alone, the only sound between them the almost imperceptible buzz of the air conditioning. Steve was staring at him, dissecting him like a damn bug under a microscope. Maybe it was because they were alone, and Tony wasn’t sure if they’d ever even been alone before, or maybe it was because of his goddamn habit to run his mouth during awkward silences, but the silence was suffocating.

He couldn’t take it.

“Look, Cap, maybe we should just—”

“What’s your problem with me?

The question might as well have hit him over the head with a baseball bat. Tony felt his jaw drop, lips parted and waiting for the words rattling around in his head to form a damn sentence. And when they did, he frowned, spluttering out an unintelligible mutter. What the hell was he even supposed to say to that?

 _Everything,_ he thought. _Nothing at all._ Why did it even matter? Steve had plenty of problems with him. Wasn’t like this talk was just going to change things.

“Do you hate me?”

“What? No.”

“Do you like me, then?”

Tony snorted. “What are we, in high school?”

“You fuckin’ act like it, sometimes,” Steve snapped, before wincing and visibly reeling himself in. A large hand scrubbed over the blond’s face, eyes raising heavenward as if to ask for a bit of reprieve. “I don’t get it. It’s like you’re trying to push all my buttons. You don’t do it to anyone else, not the way you do with me. What is it, huh? You brought up your dad. Is it ‘cause you think I only see H—”

“We’re not going there,” Tony warned, slicing a hand through the air. “I just— you push all my buttons, too, alright? Don’t act like this is all one-sided. You’re all high and mighty and perfect, even though I bet you couldn’t tell a TV remote from a vibrator. Like, I _know_ you’re good at what you do. Okay? I’m not stupid—”

“I know you’re not.”

“Let me finish,” Tony pressed, eyes narrowing in a visible attempt to stay calm. “With as much as Howard and Peggy liked talking about you growing up, you being good at your damn job is _all_ I know about you. But you don’t know the future. You need to trust me. It’s my territory, and at least let me inform your decisions. In the meantime, I can help you figure out living in the future.”

That seemed to catch Steve off guard, wariness flashing across his face. And as he sat there, lips pursed and deep in thought, the man came to a decision.

“Alright. I’ll make more of an effort to listen to you, if you’ll spend time in the city with me, help me relearn it.”

That earned a laugh from Tony. “Are you asking me out, Rogers?”

Steve didn’t flinch, bright eyes keeping contact with nothing more than a quirk of his lips. 

“What, is that a problem?”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Never said I was. Fury— he talked to me the other day. Said we needed to, uh. Either ‘punch it out or bang it out.’ This is a compromise.”

At that, Tony’s brow twitched. He slumped into the back of his chair, dark eyes pinned to the man in front of him. That was how this was going to go down? Rogers was going to sit here and bully him into a damn date? Out of all the ways the asshole could’ve asked, of course it’d be like this. Because when it came to the two of them, why the hell should anything be normal?

Then again. Who was he to back down from a challenge? Smirking, he tilted his chin upward. If Rogers was going to ask him out in such— such a _Steve_ way, all practical and no flare, then he’d accept in the only way Tony Stark would.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. A date. But I’m paying.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, almost offended at the notion that someone would be paying for him. But when Tony leaned forward across the table to plant a kiss on the man’s lips, filling the space where words were supposed to go with his own mouth, it replaced any argument the blond had with stunned silence.

The kiss only lasted a second. But it seemed to do the job, and as Stark pulled away, he arched an eyebrow in challenge. Steve’s cheeks were dusting crimson again as his mind seemed to struggle to process what just happened, those perfect blue eyes wide with shock. Until finally, he seemed to reboot himself, throat clearing and a small shudder running through him.

With a nod, Steve offered the first real smile he’d given Tony in months.

“Yeah. No argument there.”


End file.
